


Emotional Honesty

by pepperlandgirl4



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 19:34:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8257924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperlandgirl4/pseuds/pepperlandgirl4
Summary: kinkme_merlin prompt. Morgana is in tough place. She wants to be queen and take the thrown of Camelot but she is finding it harder and harder to really go through with it and kill her friends (even Merlin). Morgause has had enough waffling and demands that Morgana get them out of the way so Morgana improvises; she turns them into cats. Cats can't rule a kingdom, do magic or stop her plans so it's pretty much perfect. So queen Morgana keeps three kittens in her room but finds herself getting close with the people she once cared about (even Merlin). Cue emotionally confused Morgana. Bonus points for the cats sometimes almost acting like they're aware of the situation and other times just being cats.





	

The large, yellow tom cat bounded across the room the second Morgana opened the door, and she had to move quickly to shut him in without stepping on him. He stopped short of the suddenly blocked entrance and looked up at her with an unmistakable combination of confusion, irritation, and exasperation, as if to say _you know I was trying to get out to the corridor. Why would you shut the door on me?_

"You're not going anywhere, Arthur. Now stop being so naughty." 

Even his meow was full of chastisement. _Why do you do this, Morgana? I just want to explore._

"You can't explore. Where's Merlin and Gwen?" 

Arthur swished his tail and licked his paw with long, raspy swipes of his tongue. Morgana sighed. He either didn't understand her or he was totally ignoring her. She honestly couldn't tell which. It was so easy to see Arthur in this smaller, furry body--his pride and his temper, his nobility and his grace. He strutted around the room like he owned the place, ignored her even when she spoke directly to him, and picked the occasional fight with Merlin. Sometimes they'd fight until she absently summoned a bucket of water, though she thought Merlin was beginning to recognize the spell that always left him soaking wet and indignant. 

Arthur was clearly done talking to her for the day, so she ventured further into her chambers, searching for Merlin's sleek black form and Gwen's smaller, plumper calico body. Gwen tended to hide behind the curtains or under the bed or in the back of the wardrobe. At first, Morgana had been happy to let her hide, but after a three full days passed without seeing the cat at all, Morgana made more of an effort to coax her out into the open. She brought scraps from the kitchen to aid her attempts, but it was hard to keep the boys from eating every last piece before Gwen even had the chance to sniff at the treats. 

She spotted Merlin first. He was curled up on her pillow--the one place she didn't like them to be--but he wasn't asleep. He watched her with unblinking yellow eyes, tracking her path across the room. When she was almost within touching distance, his ear twitched and he buried his face against his foreleg. 

"I know you're awake, Merlin. I saw you." 

Morgana released the clasp holding her cloak and laid it across the bed. Merlin continued to ignore her. She pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it fall in loose waves around her shoulders, sighing from the relief of it. The headache pounding in her temples couldn't be blamed entirely on the pins, but getting rid of them was a good start. A nice hot bath was also necessary. 

Being Queen had been _great_ in theory. In practice, it meant thick knots in the back of her neck, a constant throbbing behind her eyes, and a strange, persistent ache in her stomach. All the result of stress she could probably forgo entirely if she didn't care about her people. Her people. Morgause scoffed at her when she said things like that, and okay, maybe she was kind of missing the point. It was just...

"A bit pointless," Morgana muttered softly, defiantly. Merlin didn't stir. Arthur howled, and she spun around, surprised to see him _right at her feet_ , looking at her disapprovingly. 

"Shut up, Arthur. You don't understand me." 

Arthur swished his tail. 

#

Arthur and Merlin were disgusting perverts. They went through the same process every night, without fail, and somehow ended up tucked on either side of her while she slept. Arthur took up half the bed, stretched out on his side with his legs jutting out in front of him, his nose twitching. When she nudged him because he'd somehow managed to grow twice as big in his horizontal state, he cracked one eye, gave her the most _contemptuous_ stare that she'd ever seen in her entire life, and went back to sleep. Merlin didn't hog the bed, but he was worse, somehow. He curled into her stomach, nose tucked under his tail, absolutely unmovable. Morgana tried to push him away. It didn't work. 

She kicked him off the bed once and felt so guilty when he mewed on the floor. Just once. Not even that loud. 

"Why can't you find Gwen? She never bugs me at night. Go away. Shoo." 

 

He'd settled right there on the stone floor, sleeping in the most reproachful matter. When he jumped on the bed the next night and took his usual spot near her chest, she didn't push him away again. 

One night, Arthur was in a snit and stalked off to sleep beneath the wardrobe. Merlin joined him in a show feline solidarity. Well, she told herself it was feline solidarity. She told herself they weren't behaving as they always had, mostly inseparable, insufferable. Morgana was pretty sure they hadn't _slept_ together as humans, but more often than not, she found them curled up together, or companionably grooming each other's ears (it was creepy and adorable at the same time). She spread out in her own bed that night, smiling to herself in her victory, prepared for the best night of sleep in months. But without Arthur rumbling and chirping steadily through the night and Merlin's softer grumbles, she couldn't quite get comfortable. She did _not_ give in to the temptation to coax Arthur out, scoop him up in her arms, and drag him back to bed. But she was sure to bring him extra scraps the next day as a peace offering, and everything returned to normal. 

 

#

What seemed like shyness in a human came across as admirable independence in a cat. Gwen watched the boys roughhouse and chase each other from her perch atop one of the wardrobes, sedately grooming herself while Merlin ran so fast he practically climbed the walls and Arthur tangled himself in the curtains, threatening to bring them down his bulk. He got so little exercise and Morgana gave him so many special treats that he'd become quite rotund in his captivity. Morgana felt absurdly sorry for that, remembering how much Arthur had worked, how hard he'd trained. He'd been a dedicated prince--even when he was an obnoxious bully, he'd been a good prince. Now he was an obnoxious bully all the time, swatting at Merlin for no reason, annoying Gwen when she dared to venture from her perch, stealing all the food. He'd even destroyed two of her dresses, ripping the hems to shreds in a growling fury (Morgana hadn't thought to stop him. She'd been transfixed by the sight, genuinely afraid that Arthur was sending her a message. A warning). 

Gwen proved herself to be the hunter of the trio. Arthur prowled around like he planned to kill something very soon, and Merlin lingered after him, pouncing on Arthur's tail when he seemed intent on some speck in the wall, occasionally distracted by something shiny, or something dangling, or his own shadow. Neither one of them ever actually succeeded in killing anything. But Gwen hunted through the early morning hours while the humans slumbered and the mice went about their business. She brought her kills back to Morgana, leaving the bloody, mutilated corpses in her slippers more often than not. The mess was easily magicked away, but each crimson drop stayed with her, almost as dark as the colors that now flew above Camelot. 

Cats did that sort of thing. It was Gwen's way of showing concern, and if any part of Gwen still existed inside the small animal, surely it would be the part that cared for Morgana. The part that had been trained to serve Morgana until it became something more than second nature. Surely, surely, the headless rats weren't meant to be warnings. 

One morning, she woke to find Merlin eagerly licking the blood off Gwen's face. Once her muzzle was clean, he thoroughly cleaned her chest and her ears. She preened under the attention, her long brown and black hair shining in the small patch of early morning light. Morgana watched, wondering. Wishing she'd turned them into dogs.

#

The threat of drought hung over Camelot almost from the day Morgana claimed the throne. The Druids performed rituals with the cycles of the moon, made sacrifices to unnamed gods, but there wasn't enough magic in Camelot to save the kingdom. That's what it came down to. Morgause shrugged at the increasingly desperate reports coming in from around the kingdom. She couldn't make it rain--and she had tried--so she didn't see any reason to let it bother her. They could summon enough water for personal use, so they would thrive while the people perished, making do with rations that became more meager. 

In the back of her mind, Morgana knew who was powerful enough to save them all. She'd even consider breaking the enchantment that bound Merlin, but she would have to break the enchantment over Arthur and Gwen as well, and that was not a chance she was willing to take. She might have some hope of controlling Merlin if Arthur was still vulnerable, but setting them both free would be suicide. She'd only managed to trap the three of them because of Arthur's trust in her--she'd been ruthless in the way she manipulated him, knowing she couldn't hold back. 

Day to day, week to week, month to month, Camelot clung desperately to every drop of rain the sorcerers managed to summon, the bone dry dust absorbing it quickly. 

Morgana's nightly bath became her weekly bath. And then she quietly stopped requesting one, no longer capable of enjoying the one activity that could ease her rigid shoulders. She took to watching the kingdom from her window, cradling Merlin in her arms and nuzzling his ear while she contemplated her non-existent options. 

"Can you make it rain, Merlin? Hmm? Are you the reason it won't?" 

Arthur wrapped himself around her ankles, howling up at her every few seconds. 

"Go away, you greedy little thing. I'm holding Merlin right now." 

Arthur wasn't discouraged. 

"He's a little monster, Merlin. How do you ever put up with him?" 

Merlin blinked at her with golden-rimmed eyes. Morgana understood that blink.

"He's gotten awfully fat, hasn't he? He used to be such a pudgy little thing with a little fat face. All rolly-polly when I met him. He used to run until he was as red as a tomato and..." Morgana's voice faded, her throat suddenly tight with emotion. Emotion she didn't want and couldn't name. Merlin stared at her and then extended his paw and touched her chin tenderly. 

"Meow." It was more of a _mur-ow_. He repeated himself twice more, but the third time there was a change in inflection, the second part being drawn out for just an extra beat. _Mur-ow-ah._

Morgana gasped and tensed, startling Merlin who managed to sink his claws into her shoulder before awkwardly flopping away from her. All cats landed on their meet--unless that cat was Merlin. He mostly hit his stomach, but he straightened himself out immediately, flouncing off in a perfect kitty huff. 

"Don't be a silly old lady," Morgana muttered, scooping Arthur in her arms. Arthur purred with satisfaction at his new position against her breasts, his unsteady vibrations echoing through her chest. 

"I keep wondering what Uther would do. But it's better for Camelot to have me for queen. Uther would never consider using magic, and if there are any crops this harvest, it'll be due to sorcery." 

Arthur tensed slightly, sitting up as something outside caught his attention. It was just a sparrow, swooping a little too close to the window, but Arthur was riveted. He perked his ears forward, but other than that he was motionless, his bulk a rigid mass of muscle and anticipation. The bird darted from sight soon enough, but Arthur remained at attention. 

Morgana hoped Arthur couldn't see the waste of land that had once been his kingdom. 

#  
Arthur could be found sleeping in the window more often than not, purring happily in the streaming sun, looking more golden than orange. When he wasn't sleeping, he simply watched. Morgana saw recrimination in every flick of his tail. Cats couldn't be recriminatory. They couldn't be sad, either, but the cat that had climbed curtains and destroyed dresses with reckless abandon wasn't anywhere in sight. Arthur was somber. The most somber creature in a kingdom of solemn creatures. 

Merlin and Gwen seemed to sense the change in Arthur. They kept him company on the window, or stood guard on the floor, silent witnesses to their prince's longing. 

No. No. He wasn't a prince. He wasn't human anymore. Yes, a bit of Arthur should still remain--but that's what she'd wanted. Otherwise there was no point in taking the time, or the power, necessary to bind him to this enchantment. 

"I'm trying, Arthur. I'm doing the best I can. But it's not like _you_ could make it rain, either. You'd be just as helpless. No, _more_ helpless, proud and stubborn as your father." 

Except Morgana knew better. If there were a way to bring the rain back, Arthur would figure it out. And then he would do it, even if it meant sacrificing himself in one of the Druid's rituals. He would have been the kingdom's first hope, their best hope, their only hope. 

In the late summer, when the heat refused to break though the moisture in the air increased until they were all damp and sticky, Morgana's temper finally snapped. She'd raged as the clouds refused to, using her magic to fling anything on hand against the wall. She destroyed her room, smashing her wardrobes into splinters, screaming her frustrations because _this_ wasn't how it was supposed to be. _This_ was not what Morgause had promised. Conquering was one thing, but ruling...well, ruling seemed like a fitting punishment for high treason. 

The cats hid from her while she threw her tantrum, finding some corner far enough out of the way to escape her wrath. They didn't venture out until long after she collapsed to the floor, wrung out and gasping. Gwen, being perhaps the most brave of the trio, ventured forth first, butting her head against Morgana's face until she looked up. 

"Mrow." 

"Oh, Gwen. I wish I could talk to you now. It's nearly Samhain and there's barely a harvest. The land is dying. What good is it to rule when all your subjects are dead?" 

Gwen didn't have any answers. Neither did Arthur or Merlin when they emerged, hunching forward and rolling their shoulders as they cautiously approached. Merlin jumped onto her chest, settling right over her heart and regarding her with knowing eyes. Arthur rubbed against her hand until she relented and stroked his ears, the gesture soothing them both.  
#

Morgause insisted they have the standard feast for the Midwinter celebration. Morgana was too exhausted to argue with her, even though hearing Morgause order the servants to essentially empty the stores set her teeth on edge. She didn't live in fear of going hungry herself--Morgause would never let that happen--but what would the servants eat if they indulged in a pointless feast that celebrated nothing? 

In desperation, she removed her bracelet, allowing the visions to flow through her like water through a sieve. They were stronger now as her magic was far more developed, more detailed, telling her not just one future, but many possible outcomes. Somehow, they always ended with thick smoke and flames that shot high into the night sky, roaring through Camelot like magical beasts. Morgana woke from those dreams gasping for breath, fumbling in the dark for the familiar warmth of the two heavy cats who still insisted on cuddling with her every night. 

She saw Camelot burning. She saw her own death a hundred different ways. She saw the plague that struck the lower town a week before the first person fell ill, but what could she do about it? Send all the peasants out of the city? Condemn them to icy, painful deaths outside the security of the castle walls? She warned the new court physician to be prepared, angry that Gaius wasn't there when they needed him, forgetting her own role in his absence. She saw her own servants falling one by one. She saw Morgause in state, beautiful and ghastly in a white gown with red roses clasped in her hands. 

Morgana saw everything except peace and prosperity.

Her sleep became increasingly fitful until she stopped sleeping altogether, but it never occurred to her to put the bracelet back on. There were too many things happening, to many things set to happen, and if she didn't see, then she couldn't prepare. But regardless of her powers, she couldn't save Camelot. 

Merlin became her constant companion. She didn't leave her chambers often, preferring to stay in her own--still mostly devastated--space. The castle was too bitter and empty, the torches that had once burned at regular intervals remaining cold. She kept her fire burning and huddled under furs with Merlin in her lap, shivering. When she did venture out of her chambers to meet with Morgause, she carried Merlin with her. 

"I told you that you could only keep him if he doesn't leave your room," Morgause said sharply the first time Morgana emerged with him. 

"I'm the queen. I'll take him wherever I please." 

"Morgana, please, be reasonable about this," Morgause said, her tone softening. "What would you do if he managed to get away from you." 

"He wouldn't." 

"You're tired, sister, you may not be able to stop him." 

But that's not what Morgana meant. Merlin wouldn't try to escape. She cradled him like a baby, and he let her hold him with his stomach exposed, his toes pointed outward. Morgana pet him continuously, stroking her fingers through the silky fur covering his chest. Gwen never remain stilled for longer than a few moments, tense and ready to spring even when she consented to Morgana's affection. Arthur always grew heavy in her arms until she simply couldn't stand to hold him for a moment longer. But Merlin was comfortable, warm and trusting. Something about his soft body, so fragile and vulnerable, soothed the ragged edge of her anxiety. 

Before the first thaw was even a thought, something shifted inside of her. The visions became so powerful she didn't need to sleep. They filtered through her mind in flashes of bright color. She clutched tighter at Merlin as they crashed through her, using him as a lifeline. Arthur and Gwen perched on the back of her chair, boldly jumped in her lap, nuzzled her ankles, and generally created pests of themselves. But she had no visions of the cats. When she was touching them, she knew she was there. She was real. The rest of the time, reality unraveled itself around her, the loose threads weaving new patterns, tearing apart, knitting together again. 

One cold morning, she startled from a trance, sending the trio scattering with her sudden jerk. Not far beyond the horizon. Bayard gathered his men, prepared to launch a full attack on the broken Camelot. 

Gwen followed her out of the room one afternoon so quietly and so casually that Morgana didn't notice. Not until she made it to the great hall and Gwen made a growling sort of sound. Morgana spun around, Merlin clenched in her arms, surprised to see the small cat--who looked even smaller in the immense space. 

"What are you doing here?" Morgana asked. "You know you're not supposed to leave my chambers." 

Gwen meowed and rubbed against her legs, leaving a layer of fine fur against her dress. Morgause was expecting her. She didn't have time to escort Gwen back up to her room, and she wouldn't trust the safety of the little cat in the hands of the clumsy guards. She didn't think any of them would intentionally hurt her or let her escape, but she didn't trust them, either. She didn't trust anybody with the cats except herself. 

"You're lucky you didn't get lost," Morgana said, scooping her off the floor. She couldn't hold both Gwen and Merlin in her arms, so she set Gwen on her shoulder, hoping she'd have enough sense to settle there and not try to jump off. Her claws flexed, pushing through Morgana's dress to dig into her flesh. It hurt, but Morgana was the queen. She could ignore minor discomfort. 

She swept into the throne room as regally as she ever had. The cat on her shoulder did not go unnoticed. Everybody waiting for her stopped and stared, bowing or curtsying as an afterthought. They all knew, of course, that a cat had not usurped Morgana, but when she passed through the room, she seemed more of a servant than a monarch. Gwen surveyed the room like it already belonged to her, and she was just pleased that so many people had arrived to stroke her ears and tell her she was a good kitty. 

"What are you doing, bringing them here?" Morgause asked, furiously. 

"They followed me." 

"You're carrying them!" 

"I already told you once, Morgause, that it is none of your business what I choose to do with the cats. If I wish to fill the castle with cats, I shall."

"You're being foolish." 

Morgana tensed. The cats responded by becoming more alert. Merlin sat up, tongue lapping at his muzzle absently while he waited for his mistress to calm down again. 

"I suggest you watch yourself, Morgause. Or I shall have four cats." 

"Are you threatening me?" 

"No," Morgana said calmly. "I'm warning you that you are on very thin ice at the moment and I will not tolerate this insubordination. I'll have you thrown in the dungeons if necessary." 

Morgause narrowed her eyes. "Do you know who you sound like when you speak like that? Him." 

"Good. He was an excellent king." 

Morgause flinched back. "He murdered my father, he tried to kill me when I was a child, he burned thousands of people, he sacrificed his queen for an heir, and he caused untold misery, and you say he was a good king?" 

"Camelot prospered under him. We have as much blood on our hands as he did on his." 

If Morgana had been anybody else, Morgause would have struck her. She could see it in her sister's eyes. 

"We don't have time for this, Morgana. There are reports of--" 

"Bayard. I know." 

"You've seen him?" 

"Yes," Morgana said, as calmly as she could. "And we can't stop him." 

There wasn't a hint of moisture in the frigid winter morning. When Morgana dragged her fingers through Arthur's long coat, the air crackled around them, the small blue sparks making them both twitch in mild discomfort. Arthur's ribs and shoulder blades jutted against his skin with no padding at all. She hugged him close because Arthur should never be this skinny, as light as Merlin or Gwen on her lap. There were not scraps left in the kitchen, and though Gwen did a fine job of hunting for her boys, the number of rodents in Camelot, in the winter, during a famine, wasn't infinite. Morgana fed them off her plate as much as she could, but her portions were bettered suited for a child and the food simply didn't stretch that far. 

One morning, she found all three of them gazing forlornly out the window, their tails wrapped around their legs, their bodies perfectly still, Arthur sitting in the middle--as always. Morgana had given up believing they were just cats. They were still themselves, imprisoned though they may be. Imprisoned and as helpless as she was. 

"Do you want to go?" Morgana had asked, suddenly angry. "Is that what you want? Is that why you sit there like that?" She flung the window open, bidding them farewell, but they all turned up to stare at her with unblinking eyes. A wind swept through, clawing at her with bony fingers, and the window immediately snapped shut. Morgana knew it wasn't her doing. It was the wind. It had to be. Because Merlin couldn't do magic as a cat. If he could, she had no doubt he would have found a way around her enchantment long ago.

Morgana gripped Arthur beneath his arms and lifted him to his hind legs so she could look directly into his eyes. "Bayard will be here in three days. Camelot doesn't have the strength to fight him or survive a siege. The Knights will do their best, but the Citadel will fall this time without you, Arthur." 

Morgause was mostly unconcerned. There was still powerful magic in Camelot, and they could unleash the full force of it on Bayard's men. But they weren't powerful enough to summon rain. They weren't powerful enough to break the cold. They weren't powerful enough to find enough food to three cats. What would they do to Bayard's men? Burn them? Camelot was like a tinderbox. One spark would be enough to destroy everything. That wasn't idle speculation. Morgana had seen it. But Morgause reasoned that fire would kill the Mercians as easily as it killed their own people. "In the end, we'll still be standing, sister." 

Cendred was not impressed with Morgause's plan to let everybody and everything burn until nobody stood either for or against them. As far as Morgana could tell, Cenred didn't have an ounce of decency within him. But he was noble. Morgause saw his nobility as weakness, but Morgana knew that his kingdom only survived because its ruler was not utterly corrupt. He removed his support, sending his mercenaries back to his castle, threatening to follow them if Morgause couldn't think of a better plan than a scorched earth. 

When they invaded, Morgana would fight, and she would make sure Morgause joined the battle. Uther would have fought--had, in fact, fought. Now it seemed less important that Uther had been fighting her. The important thing was that he'd been suffering, insane, and he'd still donned his armor and flung himself into the havoc. Morgana would not prove herself to be the coward Uther Pendragon refused to be. She would fight, but she'd lose. 

Arthur was no help. His tail flicked back and forth, but he was otherwise calm. Morgana leaned closer, almost touching their noses, still staring into his eyes. Confusion flickered over his face, and then his tongue darted out, rasping over her nose. When she didn't push him away, he did it again. Much to her horror, the back of her eyes began to burn. She blinked rapidly, trying to stave off the tears, but another small kiss from Arthur had them pooling in the corners and clinging to her lashes. 

She was not going to be the coward Uther Pendragon had been. 

Arthur cleaned her face enthusiastically, licking at the salty tears and dragging his whiskers across her cheeks to mark her with his scent. She allowed the ritual to continue, her pulse fluttering in her throat as Arthur's soft fur tickled over her cheeks and nose and mouth. He meowed a few times--a low, gravelly sound that was more than a little comforting. When he was satisfied with the job, he curled snugly in her lap and set about cleaning his own face. 

Was it too late? Would it do any good now to change Arthur back to his proper form with Bayard only a handful of days away, the land perishing, the people depleted? If she brought Arthur back to fight, what would he fight with? 

Merlin. 

He needed Merlin. He would never win otherwise, and that wasn't an option. If she was going to sacrifice herself and Morgause, sacrifice everything they had worked to gain--even if it wasn't anything like she'd expected--then Arthur needed to be victorious. And if she was going to give Arthur his sorcerer, she might as well give him his queen. If Camelot survived this hell, Arthur would need heirs. 

Morgana deposited Arthur on the bed. He padded directly to Merlin and pestered him until he shifted himself, making room on Morgana's pillow for Arthur to join him. They wrapped around each other, Arthur's massive paw in Merlin's sleeping face--she saw just the hint of Merlin's tongue sticking out between his lips and it made something in her chest twist. She had other things to do, but she couldn't resist settling on the bed and running her hand over them. They both rose to meet her touch, their eyes still closed, the perfect picture of feline contentment. 

"Meow," Gwen greeted, jumping on the bed. 

"Hello, Gwen. I see you've decided to join us. Come here." Morgana held out her fingers, smiling as Gwen scratched her face against Morgana's nails. "Your boys are quite lazy." 

Gwen made a sound of agreement, whisked her tail back and forth, and crawled up to the pillow. Arthur and Merlin each cracked an eye open to watch her approach and somehow made room for her between them. They became a blob of black and gold and brown, the lines of their bodies completely obscured until Morgana couldn't even tell where one began and the other ended. 

Camelot was dying and its rightful rulers were napping on her pillow. 

Morgana couldn't do this anymore. 

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, kissing her fingers and touching each one of them. She carefully removed the crown--the wretched crown that she hated to wear--and set it on the table beside the bed. She stripped of all her finery, removing her regal costume one layer at a time until she wore nothing but her shift. 

Morgana kept the three wooden figurines in a hollowed out book at the bottom of her nightstand. The book itself was carefully wrapped and tucked under a stack of bedclothes. She would have liked something more secure, but there was no chance of the cats getting into it there, and none of the servants would dare to go through her personal belongings. Each had one had been carefully carved by hand by Cendred, who revealed himself to be rather clever at whittling. 

All she had to do was break them and Arthur, Merlin, and Gwen would return to normal.

"I am sorry. If you can understand me, if you can remember, I am sorry."

Morgana separated them first--or she tried to as much as possible. Merlin and Arthur had very firm ideas of where they wanted to be (on her bed) and what they wanted to be doing (cuddling together). Morgana put Gwen behind the changing screen for the sake of her privacy, and at least she didn't immediately attempt to sprint across the room and position herself on Morgana's pillow once again. 

The plan was simple. First, she'd change Gwen back because of the three, she was the least likely to attempt to kill Morgana on sight. Morgana didn't try to fool herself into believing that Gwen wouldn't want to, but she didn't have the training Arthur did or the innate power Merlin possessed. After that, Arthur. He'd probably be distracted by Gwen at first, and that would give her the opportunity to break Merlin's enchantment. After that...

Well. 

The plan went more or less as Morgana had expected. Gwen wrapped herself in the robe Morgana gave her, but otherwise didn't say a word. Did she remember the past year? Or was it all a blank on her memory? Was she even aware that a year had passed? Judging by the wary glances she shot Morgana, she must have been aware something had happened. Morgana wanted to explain that she had only used magic on Gwen because it was either that or agree with Morgause's plan to kill her. Actually, Morgana's agreement wouldn't have been necessary. Morgause would have been happy enough to do it herself. But Morgana couldn't quite bring herself to repay Gwen's friendship with death, even if she'd convinced herself she no longer had any need for the devotion of a servant girl. 

Arthur was similarly silent, but it wasn't at all hard to read what was going on in his mind. Arthur's face could be a stony mask when he wanted it to be, but as he looked at her, she saw every bit of betrayal, rage, shock, and even hatred. Arthur had been cross with her, enraged, embarrassed, even in lust at various points in the past several years, but one glance of the disgust on his face wiped away all those memories. She never realized how much his love and respect meant to her until she'd utterly destroyed it. 

Merlin spoke to her though. 

"You shouldn't have done that, Morgana." 

She lifted her chin. "Think what you will, but I did it to save your life." 

"That's not what I meant." 

"Kill me if you must. I understood the risk when I destroyed the statues." 

"Why did you?" Arthur asked. He looked gaunt, only half the vibrant prince Morgana remembered. 

"Mercia is going to invade, and we don't have enough defenses to save the Citadel." 

Arthur's face twisted into an ugly grimace. "I would sooner die than fight for you." 

"I'm not asking you to fight for me. I'm asking you to fight for Camelot." 

"Is there a difference?" 

"Yes." Morgana took a deep breath. She knew what she needed to do to prove her good intentions. She thought it would be hard. But now that she was standing in front of the three of them, Arthur in the center and a little in front, it was actually easy to do the right thing. As easy as it had been to follow Morgause down the twisted path that brought them to his point. She lowered herself to her knees, head bowed, her loose hair falling forward to shield her face. "My lord." 

"Morgana." 

The stricken tone of his voice prompted her to look up. Her breath caught at the sight of Arthur, her king. Gone was the earlier anger and loathing. He'd forgiven her. Just like that. Her breath caught again, but this time it sounded more like a sob lodging itself in her throat. She didn't deserve his mercy. After everything she'd done, everything she'd destroyed, every soul she killed, she did not deserve Arthur's mercy or his sympathy. But she had both. 

"Arthur. What are we going to do with her?" Merlin asked. 

Morgana bowed her head again. Merlin's question was a soft reminder that Arthur could not let her live. If he wanted to reclaim the throne, she couldn't walk out of that room. 

"Do you know the spell she used on us?" Arthur asked tightly. 

"I do." 

"Can you perform that spell?" 

"I can, sire." 

"Do it." 

Gwen finally made a sound. A tiny, stifled cry that may have been shock or may have been relief. 

"Arthur? Are you sure?" Merlin asked. 

"Yes." Arthur stepped forward and touched her chin, prompting her to look up to meet his steady gaze. "We both know that as long as she lives, she has claim to the throne. But she's my sister, Merlin. She's Uther's daughter. I'm not going to run her through with my own sword." 

"It's nice," Gwen said softly. "You still know who you are, even when you're killing rats, but it's still nice. Like a weight has been lifted." 

"You...you still knew who you were?" Morgana asked. "Could you understand me?" 

"Yes," Merlin said. "Sometimes it was difficult, like you were speaking a language I'd never heard, but I could still understand you."

"I'll take care of you," Gwen promised. She stepped forward as well, bending to kiss Morgana's brow. "You always took good care of us." 

The touch of Gwen's lips, so familiar and tender, against her skin broke something inside of her. Or maybe, it mended something inside of her. The pain in her chest dislodged, and she remembered long hot nights stretched out on the cool floor, whispering to Gwen about things they wouldn't dare talk about during the day. Gwen returned her embrace, enveloping her in warmth that was just as potent as Arthur's forgiveness, and equally undeserved.

"I don't have another statue," Morgana said, as Gwen stepped back. "Cendred carved them. I don't even know where I could find one." 

"I won't need it." 

"But the magic needs a totem." 

"Mine doesn't." 

"Were you doing spells, Merlin? While you were...this past year?" 

"Yes. I was practicing. It's difficult to concentrate, though, when you're brain is tiny and your instincts shout DANGER every time there's a small noise somewhere." 

Morgana nodded, somewhat relieved to know that her reign would have ended sooner or later either way. There was a certain, undeniable power in this triad. She could suppress it temporarily, but she'd been foolish to believe Camelot belonged to her. 

"I'm ready." 

"Goodbye," Merlin said softly, just before the world turned white and spun away from her. 

**Epilogue**

"Did you let Morgause get a hold of you again?" Arthur asked, eyeing the scratches on Merlin's face with a distinct twitch of his lips. 

"She escaped to the kitchen, somehow. I was just trying to get a hold of her before the cook turned her into kitty stew." 

Gwen grimaced. "They wouldn't really make a stew out of cats, would they?" 

"I don't know what they do in there, but the point is, I was trying to help and she nearly clawed my eye out." 

"You know she only likes Arthur to pick her up," Gwen pointed out. 

Merlin gingerly touched his cheek. "Yes, I'm sure Arthur would love me to interrupt his council meeting so he could go chase a cat through the castle. Next time, I'll be sure to do that." 

"Actually, I wouldn't have complained today. It's just the same stuff I've already heard ten times this week." 

Gwen rubbed his arm comfortingly. He sighed and leaned into the touch, eyes closing with bliss as her fingers drifted up his shoulder to stroke the back of his neck. Merlin harumphed at the sight. 

"Oh, yes, poor Arthur. He had to suffer through a meeting while Morgause tried to eat my face off." 

Gwen silently held out her other arm in invitation. Merlin considered ignoring it, but he was cold and tired and the bed looked like the greatest thing he'd ever seen. He took his place on the other side of her, sighing when her cool fingers touched the angry welt on his cheek. 

"I know you're both tired, but I needed to talk to you about something," Gwen said. 

Arthur moaned. "Can't it wait?" 

"No. I think...Morgana is going to have kittens." 

"What? I thought we kept her locked away long enough." 

"I thought we did, too, but apparently not. Cendred is quite wily." 

"Is that even possible?" Arthur asked. "I thought that since we never..." 

Merlin lifted his head. "What do you mean, we never? Did you two...was kittens a possibility?" 

"It was the natural thing to do, Merlin." 

"I managed to control myself!" 

"Boys. Arguing about it now isn't going to solve our problem." 

"What's our problem?" Arthur asked. 

"A litter of kittens." 

Arthur settled back down. Merlin mimicked him, content with his head resting on Gwen's stomach, Arthur's fingers idly stroking behind Merlin's ear. "Honestly, that seems like the least of our problems. Kittens are cute." 

"But what if there's some sort of weird complication?" Gwen asked. 

"It'll be fine," Merlin said.

"Can you be sure of that?" 

"Well, can we be sure of anything?" He gently squeezed her knee. "Don't worry. Like Arthur said, kittens are cute." 

Morgana chose that moment to jump on the foot of the bed, and now that Gwen said something, he could definitely see she was more...rotund than before. She licked at the white patch on her chest, rubbed her paw over the back of her ear, then casually stepped onto Merlin's leg and walked the length of it to settle on his hip. 

"Hello, Morgana." 

She echoed his greeting before closing her eyes, dozing as only a pussycat could.


End file.
